Never did I watch a news item with more intensity than I did the captivity and eventual rescue of the Chilean miners. I have had problems with claustrophobia through the years, and not too long ago was traumatized by an experience overseas. I really should not have been watching. But I did anyway, and my mind connected the dots between their experience and my own. Of course I could in no way comprehend how these men, trapped in a pit for weeks, could keep their sanity. But somehow I was in that pit with them, overcome by fear. I also shared their feelings, when that incredibly joyous time when they were, one by one, lifted out of their prison into the waiting arms of wives, children, and friends. What euphoria! What adrenalin flow! I was beside myself.
I remember a scene nearly 40 years ago, watching a Billy Graham film, when the message of the cross, what Jesus did for me, finally struck fire. I got it. The tears began to flow, from some reservoir deep within. Sorrow upon sorrow. I was the sinner. I deserved to die. Jesus died in my place. It was the simple Gospel, the kind that puts you in a pit and kills you before you understand the fullness of resurrection. Ah, but resurrection comes, and mine came that same night. After the crying subsided, an unknown substance began to rise from those same channels. Laughter. Joy unspeakable. I "got" the rest of the story. Not only what He did back then but what He wanted to do now. I was forgiven! What's not to be happy about? For hours streams of joy came over me, culminating in a baptismal service that very night in the muddy Scioto River.
For the Chilean miners, it was a small company in Canada that provided the way of escape from the Pit. For me, it was Jesus. For you, too.
The story of the captives from Chile did not end there on that rapturous day. I somehow wish it had. I wanted to remember forever how awful the pit had been and then rejoice in the freeing from that hell. But life went on, as it must always. We began to hear of the private lives of these men. Of affairs they were having. Of one wife who did not even bother to show up for the rescue because her partner had been unfaithful. His "new" partner was there in her place. How disappointing. Aren't rescued men made of better stuff than this?
No, they're not. And that's the point. They were rescued because they were unable to rescue themselves. Weak, ordinary men.
These miners, as all men, need to realize that without Christ-and all gave lip-service to the Catholic-style Christ, who makes no demands on their personal lives- all are still in a pit, needing the rescue of all rescues.
When I think of my own life since rescue day, I imagine how disappointing the "rest of the story" must be for Jesus some days, as He sees His own heading back to the edges of the Pit, toying with jumping back in.
There is no hope for such but constant gazes at Calvary. He will not be dying again. He will come again, but no more sacrifice will be offered. If conversion seems so far removed, so long ago as to be irrelevant today, a dose of God's ever-now Spirit is in order. Be warned, be aware! There'll be no excuses on that day! Talk to your Rescuer today.
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